"Yes. We will have to try to make sure that no innocent people are hurt at the church—"
"—especially children," Remo finished before Chiun could.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Remo, Chiun, and Walter stood across the street from Moorcock's church as the Friday morning worshipers filed in.
"I don't understand the appeal of Moorcock's new religion," Remo said to Walter.
"My mother always said that it was an alternative," Walter said.
"And your father?"
Walter grinned and said, "My father always said it was a bunch of shit. Boy, if he only knew that we were really working for the minister. He was right, the religion shit was just a bunch of shit."
"Maybe not," Remo said. "I saw people dropping money in those urns he calls collection plates. I think maybe that's how he first financed his drug deals. From the looks of his church, he sure never used the money to make improvements."
"He said that the money would not be spent on commercial things but on intangibles."
"What was that supposed to mean?"
Walter shrugged and said, "Nobody ever asked him."
"He's got a mesmerizing manner, all right," Remo said. "His voice, his eyes— he's probably able to get people to listen to whatever he says, without question."
"People are sheep," Chiun said.
"He knows how to play to people, that's all. That's what every fire-and-brimstone preacher has always been able to do."
"You sound like you admire him," Walter said.
"Not at all, Walter. I just recognize what he is."
"If he had been satisfied with being a minister, none of this would be necessary," Chiun said, "but he used his ability to influence people to go too far. He has caused the death of children such as yourself, and he must be punished."
"I'm not a child."
"Believe me, kid," Remo said, "to Chiun you're a child."
The last person seemed to have entered the church, and they were about to step from cover to cross the street when Walter Sterling pulled them back.
"Oh, no!" he said.
"What's the matter?" Remo asked.
"That woman walking down the block toward the church." the kid said.
"What about her?" Remo asked.
"It's my mother."
"Your mother?"
"If she goes in— I didn't know she attended Friday services. What you and Chiun are planning…"
"Let's see if she goes in," Remo said.
The three of them watched the woman as she made her way down the street toward the church. When she reached the front steps, she ascended them without hesitation and entered the building.
"Damn!" Walter said.
"Take it easy—" Remo said.
"You can't do it, not now," Walter said. "I don't know exactly what you and Chiun are planning to do, but from hearing you talk, I think a lot of people could end up getting hurt."
"No one is going to get hurt," Chiun said.
"How can you be so sure—"
Chiun put his hand on the back of the boy's neck and said, "I am sure, and you can be sure, can't you, Walter?"
Walter's face went blank, and he nodded his head.
"Yes."
"Good," Chiun said. He exerted a little more pressure, and suddenly Walter slumped over. Remo lowered him gently to the ground, where he began to snore.
"Put him in the alley behind the fence," Chiun said. "He will be out of the way there."
After Remo had taken care of Walter, he and Chiun prepared to cross the street. This time Remo himself stopped them.
"Do you see?"
"I see," Chiun said.
A man had come out the side door of the church, carrying a black attaché case. He walked to a dark car, got in, and drove away.
"The drugs are on their way to the plant," Remo said. "By the time we get there, they should be in the fender wells of the cars."
"Let us go to church," Chiun said.
They crossed the street to the church and then moved around to the side entrance. Opening the door without a sound, they entered and stood out of sight behind Moorcock, who was already into his sermon.
"Sins of the flesh are not condemned here, my dear followers," he was saying, "as long as it is your own flesh you sin against. You may do what you will with your own body, your own mind, your own soul. That is a modern-day belief."
Remo and Chiun could see that the church was half-full. Most of the people were sitting toward the front, with the stragglers— winos and derelicts— toward the back.